


Gotta Make Him Yours

by Totoffle



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Hey Boy, M/M, Mark is definitely dressed as a prostitute, Possessive Gary, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totoffle/pseuds/Totoffle
Summary: "We're supposed to be working!""Yeah, and you look like you are working, just not as a musician."(Or: Gary can't resist Mark, even when he's wearing a stupid, hairy jacket.)
Relationships: Gary Barlow/Mark Owen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Gotta Make Him Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's been a very long time - just over three years, in fact! - since I posted anything at all, and I thought it was about time that I actually finished something for a change. I started writing this way back in 2016, and got stuck for ages before I finally got it done. It's silly and smutty PWP, and a lot longer than I ever intended it to be. But hopefully you guys like it, and maybe it'll inspire me to write and edit some of the other 1000000+ words I've got hanging around... Maybe after NaNoWriMo (which is set to be a bit of Barlowen "cottage renovation in the country" fluff).
> 
> This is, obviously, set during the shooting of the Hey Boy video, where everyone is envious of how pretty Mark looks (seriously, have you seen those three girls at the bottom of the stairs? They're JEALOUS), even if he does look like a prostitute. I ain't complaining, though.

When he'd first seen The Outfit hanging up on the rail, Gary had almost laughed his thick, white and annoyingly itchy socks off.

"No way," he'd said, shaking his head. "No _way_ are you getting in them trousers. Even _your_ arsewon't fit. They'll have to pour you in 'em and yank you back out. And you'll look like a total prat in that hairy jacket, even more than you do in that thing from the tour. And that's before I even get started on the shirt! What's with the leopard print? And why hasn't it got any sleeves?!"

Mark had nodded along as Gary pointed out the flaws in every last stitch, but it was in that infuriating _you're wrong, but you don't know why_ , way that usually meant there was about to be a whole lot of suffering in Gary's future.

When he finds out _why_ he's wrong, Gary doesn't find it all unpleasant at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.

As it turns out, Mark does look a bit of a prat, but in typical Mark fashion that only ever seems to work for him. If Gary had been the one wearing it he'd never live it down for the rest of his life, whereas on Mark it looks pretty much perfect. The shirt, the shoes, the jacket, the tight white trousers, the bloody ridiculous coiffed hair... Any notion of prattishness is forcibly evicted from Gary's brain as soon as he sees Mark in the full outfit, walking down the streets and swinging his hips with abandon, because now all he can think about is shoving Mark up against a wall and having his way with him.

He tries not to think about it, because they're supposed to be at work, it wouldn't be appropriate, and nobody else would appreciate it. One person in particular.

"Please stop looking at him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like this." Howard pulls a weird face, raising his eyebrows and parting his lips. Gary doesn't think he's capable of making such a face, and Howard is being overdramatic. "Like you want to rip his clothes off and shag him here and now. If you could wait until we're back at the hotel and I've got my fingers in my ears, I'd be much obliged. I know you can't help yourself, but I'm beggin' you, mate."

Gary rolls his eyes, despite Howard having a point. "Shut up. I'm not even looking at _him_ , I'm watching those guys over there."

They both know he's lying through his teeth, of course.

"Yeah, sure. Just promise me you won't _do_ anything. Not here."

Gary promises, and he means it.

Or at least, he means it until he sees the rough cut of the 'Getting Ready' footage: Mark blowdrying his hair and posing in the mirror, looking far too attractive for his own good... and then Gary can't force himself to fight the urge any longer. He has to find Mark, and he has to find him immediately, before he loses his mind.

When he does track him down, Gary feels as if the breath has been knocked out of him, and not in an exhilarating, fun sort of way. Stunning, fit young things of both sexes are surrounding Mark in a squashed circle, all of them giggling, including him. One of the beauties is actually _stroking_ his awful jacket!

Gary can't have that. Mark is his, goddammit, and if that makes him a possessive boyfriend then so be it. He's many, many things he probably shouldn't be, when it comes to Mark, none of which he intends, and none of which he can help.

It all stems from the nineties, from a time when Gary yearned for Mark to be his, but Mark constantly seemed to be with someone else. And that was fine, because Mark could be with whoever he wanted, and at the time that happened to not be Gary. Now, however, he _is_ with Gary, which means Gary has the right to not enjoy seeing his lover being fawned over by a group of gorgeous dancers who are all half his age.

He stomps over to them, determined. Mark looks up and his eyes light up when he sees who's approaching, happy to see Gary as usual. Typical Mark doesn't see the urgency of the situation, continuing instead to allow the dancers full access to his appalling outfit. Gary huffs to himself as he draws nearer, his mind racing with all of the things he needs to stay and do. He does soften slightly when he sees Mark's face - the lovely smile that's reserved for him and only him.

"Mark, can I talk to you, please? It's important."

Without waiting for a reply, Gary plunges his arm through the crowd and grabs Mark's wrist. Ignoring Mark's protests, he leads him away from the group, past the crew (and Howard, rolling his eyes), along the street, down an alleyway and, finally, up against a wall. 

Anything Mark has to say in response is lost as Gary kisses him, one arm braced on the wall, the other keeping him firmly in place underneath him. Mark wriggles at first, then stills and joins in. He even parts his lips, allowing Gary to ever so gently slide his ton-

And then, annoyingly, Mark realises what's on the cards.

"Gaz!" he says, pulling back, away from Gary's lips. "We can't, not _here_!"

"Why not? We're paying for it."

Mark falls silent as he processes this, giving Gary the perfect opportunity to kiss him again without Mark's conscience getting in the way. He goes along his jaw and down his neck this time, savouring it, conscious that at any moment someone could poke their head around the corner and tell them to get a bloody move on because the light's fading or something equally unimportant.

Or, worse, Mark will come to his senses and stop him. Again.

"Why d'you need to do it right _now_?"

"'cause you look too fucking sexy in that outfit, Markie."

"Thanks - you said I was going to look like a prat."

"You do. You've got an awful coat on and you look like a prostitute." Gary looks Mark straight in the eye as he pushes his hips forwards, his cock brushing Mark's through several layers of fabric. He watches as Mark tries to fight a shudder occurring, and fails spectacularly. "But it's really working for me."

"Why?"

Gary shrugs, not feeling like talking but knowing he's not going to get away with it that easily. "I dunno – it just is. Do I have to explain?" Mark nods, and Gary sighs, counting off the various reasons on his fingers. "Your hair's all messed up, your shirt's low enough that I can see your neck, you've got them tight trousers on-"

"They aren't even that tight. Howard's are tighter."

"Maybe. But as much as I love Howard and think he's an attractive lad, I don't want to bend him over and shag his brains out right at this moment."

"Alright, well..." Mark grapples for the next excuse, and Gary can see he's edging closer to winning this game. A few seconds and Mark will be begging for it, like he usually does. " _Your_ trousers are the tightest of the lot, _and_ you've got your arms on show, but I'm keeping myself under control."

"What if I don't want to keep myself under control?" Gary growls in Mark's ear, to punctuate his point. "What if I want to be completely out of control?"

Mark shudders a second time, but stands firm. Even Gary is, begrudgingly, impressed. Under normal circumstances there's no way Mark can resist Gary's _special_ voice, particularly when he's already well on his way to getting hot and bothered.

"You'll have to put up with it," he says, eventually, and it sounds like a monumental effort. "We both will. We're supposed to be working!"

"Yeah, and you look like you _are_ working, just not as a musician. And what if I do _this_?"

Unfortunately for Mark, they've been together long enough that Gary knows his weak spots, including a couple he didn't know about himself. Gary knows where he's most ticklish, where he enjoys being licked, how much he can take. Gary knows how fast, how slow, how cautious, how rough to be. Gary knows what makes Mark weak at the knees. And this is always Mark's undoing, because Gary knows each and every part of Mark's body better than Mark does.

It's not a bad thing, though. Gary's status of resident Mark Expert is exactly why Mark is enjoying himself so much. As Gary caresses his erection through those snug white trousers, all whilst nuzzling Mark's neck and kissing his earlobe, he can make a reasonable guess as to how he's feeling.

_This is good, we should do this more often, Gary is definitely right to be making out with me when we're supposed to be shooting a music video..._

For a brief, thrilling moment, Gary thinks he's won. Mark is definitely going to concede defeat and have sex with Gary immediately...

But, of course, Mark decides to be far too sensible and spoil Gary's fun. Most of it, anyway.

"Stop, stop!" he says, laughing and twisting out of Gary's grip. "Not here, and that's final. But I tell you what: if you can behave yourself until we get this done, and I mean _really_ behave yourself - so no touching me up, and putting some proper effort in to the dancing... If you manage that, then the minute we get to our hotel room you can tear my clothes off and fuck me on the floor. Deal?"

Gary nods, dumbstruck. What's he supposed to say to an offer like that, after all?

"Great. Now, we've got to go back out there, so I suggest you start thinking of something unsexy to get rid of _that_."

After a quick peck to Gary's cheek, Mark waltzes off – waggling his hips again, this time with an express purpose. Gary watches him go, wondering how he's ever going to get through the next five hours in the knowledge of what's ahead of him tonight.

Once Mark's out of sight, Gary forces himself to imagine Nigel in the _Do What U Like_ outfit (his standby for these kinds of situations), before hunting down the director and insisting he's only filmed from the waist up for the rest of the day.

* * *

They've got a fairly long car ride ahead of them, which gives Gary plenty of time to plan the evening's events. Mark is sitting next to him, lolling on his shoulder as he chats sleepily with Howard about a topic unrelated to the fucking he's going to be getting later, and therefore of no interest to Gary. He's definitely getting lucky tonight, which is a big weight off his mind. Mark told him as much after they'd finished the last shot of the day, not so subtly pinching his bum and saying _"Alright, deal,"_ as he heads off with Howard to thank the cast and crew.

New York speeds by, and Gary doesn't bother to look out of the window. His eyes are fixed on it, but his mind is somewhere else: namely, their fancy suite at the hotel. He hopes Howard (and everyone in a five mile radius) has packed a decent set of earplugs.

Oh, the things he's planning to do! Every second of the day when he hasn't been concentrating on the whole _shooting a music video_ thing (and a fair few seconds where he has), Gary had thought about what's going to happen when they close that door behind them. Mark has no idea what he's in for, and that's the greatest part of it all. Even Gary is still trying to work out how to get the best out of Mark, and how to give him the best of himself in return.

But, deep down, Gary knows elaborate plans for these sorts of nights, when Mark will do anything for him, aren't actually worth it. They start out fine, with everything going to plan and him ticking to-dos off his mental list, nothing stopping him... and then something _will_ stop him, usually Mark. Not on purpose, but Mark will derail the proceedings and send them in a new, uncharted, fucking fantastic direction. He'll give an extra sultry look, or lick his lips, or his hair will fall over his face in that way Gary could never resist in a million years, and then Gary finds himself chucking the plan straight out of the window and submitting to Mark's will, all without Mark noticing anything has changed.

Wordlessly, Mark slips his hand into Gary's as they approach the hotel, giving him three soft squeezes in a row. Gary knows what they mean: _I love you, we're gonna fuck all night long_ , and _yes you_ can _do whatever you want to me_.

He squeezes back: _love you too, yes we are,_ and _you won't be able to walk tomorrow_. Then he adds a fourth, as a thank you. _Thank you for wanting to do this, thank you for going along with my horniness, thank you for not kicking me in the balls earlier when I was out of my mind with lust_. He prays Mark gets the full message.

By the time they make it into the hotel reception, Mark's less groggy and Gary's come up with half an idea, although he's fully aware it could all go to pot as soon as he's locked the door. Still, it's nice to have a reserve, in case he freezes and can't think what to do next. Not that _that's_ ever happened, because when it comes to being intimate with Mark, Gary's body tends to take charge and carry them both to places they didn't know existed, without him doing much except revelling in it.

The three of them get in the lift up to the tenth floor, and they part ways with Howard until the next morning. Before he goes, he gives Gary a nod and an eyebrow raise that says, _give me five minutes to get my headphones on_. Gary isn't sure he can control himself for half a minute, let alone five, but he'll try, for Howard.

For some ill-advised reason, Mark has been trusted with looking after their room key for the day. He unlocks the door and gropes around for the light switch, moving to one side to let Gary in first. _Chivalrous to the last_ , Gary thinks, although it won't be long until Mark loses all sense of decorum and, with any luck, dignity.

And, sure enough...

"So, are you gonna fuck me on the floor, Gaz?"

The door isn't even closed all the way, yet. Gary waits until it clicks into place before rounding on Mark, getting as close to him as he possibly can without actually touching him. There's plenty of time for that. They've got all night, after all.

"No, I'm not."

Gary looks deep into Mark's eyes, letting the disappointment settle. He does everything in his power not to smile, because it'll give the game away, and he wants to keep up the pretence for a good while.

He lasts for approximately seventeen seconds before he buckles under the pressure. He takes hold of Mark's wrists and spins them both so they've swapped places, Gary now with his back to the door. They don't break eye contact, not even to blink.

"I'm going to fuck you against the wall, like I wanted to in that alleyway. And I'm not even gonna bother taking all your clothes off, first."

Not so gently he gives Mark a push, forcing him to take a step backwards. A delicious little whimper escapes Mark's lips as his back hits the bricks separating the bedroom and bathroom. Gary unzips both of their jackets in turn, and casts them to the floor (Mark doesn't bother going to pick them up, he can already tell it's not that sort of evening).

"Don't tease me..." Mark all but begs, which, of course, is the worst thing he can say. He appreciates his mistake straight away, and adds a slightly desperate, "Please."

"Oh no, little Markie. No no _no_. You've teased me all day long, and it's my turn, now." Gary snakes one arm around Mark's back to hold him close, the other holding his wrists above their heads to keep him in his place. "Swanning about in those ridiculous trousers, wiggling your arse, flirting with all and sundry..."

"I was _not_ flirting!"

"Yes you were," Gary tells him. "All those young, attractive girls and boys. Not quite as attractive as you, but not far from it." This is a lie: they both know Gary thinks Mark is in a different league all together, that nobody else even compares. "You weren't complaining when they were all surrounding you earlier, were you? You were bloody loving it, lad."

Mark locks eyes with Gary, fixing him with a steady stare, breathing hard. "Were you jealous?"

"Of course I was jealous! The way they were looking at you, like you were up for grabs, like you were available. You, as I thought we made clear about fifteen years ago, are _mine_." He can feel Mark's heart pounding under his shirt, and decides to make it worse. "Say it."

"Really?"

Gary nods. "Say it. _Now_."

With his eyes closed and his head tipped back, Mark says it: "I'm all yours, Gary."

He can feel Mark start to crumble. This is Gary's one and only objective, and he's determined to keep it going for as long as he can, determined to keep Mark right on that beautiful edge. This is only the beginning of the night, and there's plenty more still ahead of them.

"Damn right you are." Gary starts unbuckling Mark's belt with one hand, which is a skill he's honed over the years. The button is next to go, popping away easily as his erection strains under the material of his trousers. "And I'm gonna make sure you remember that."

He shoves his hand down Mark's trousers, bypassing his boxers and grabbing his hard, aching cock. Mark groans and pushes himself towards Gary, his arms still held captive above his head. Sometimes it's an act, or an exaggeration, but Gary gets the feeling this is the real deal.

"You wouldn't let me fuck you earlier, wouldn't even let me touch you," he says, squeezing Mark's cock between his fingers. "That wasn't very kind, was it?"

Mark has (temporarily) lost the power of speech, and can only whimper once more in response.

"Was it?" Gary repeats, tightening his grip. Watching Mark gradually losing his mind right in front of him is the single most incredible sight he's ever seen, and he's seen plenty of amazing things in his time.

"Ga... Gary, please..." Mark pants. Then he realises he won't get what he needs until he gives a satisfactory answer, so he shakes his head. "No, it wasn't kind. Please touch me."

"I _am_ touching you." Gary loosens his grip and uses the lightest of touches to stroke Mark's shaft. Mark groans even louder, which only spurs him on. "Were you wishing some of those pretty dancers would touch you like this, eh? Were you imagining how it would feel to have them all over you?" He pauses, before adding: "Or am I enough?"

"Oh God, you're all I want!" Mark thrusts his hips forwards, but Gary is one step ahead and has already stopped moving his hand. "I only ever want you, Gary..."

"You sure?" Gary gives him one, firm squeeze, to check he's paying attention. If he hadn't been holding onto him, Mark would've sunk to the floor. "Just me? Not any of the dancers? Not any of the lads, or the band, or the fans?"

Gary takes his hand away entirely as he waits for the answer, and Mark grunts in frustration, screwing up his face.

"No," he says, firmer than Gary had been expecting. "Not anybody else, I've never wanted anybody else but you. You're all I want, all I've ever wanted, Gary."

Sometimes, Gary needs to hear him say it.

"Too right," he says, trying to keep his voice firm despite the lump forming in his throat. He swallows it, and continues. "Does that mean I can do what I want with you and you won't argue?"

Mark opens one eye, and nods, slowly.

"Anything," he whispers. "I'm yours."

That, Gary decides, is permission enough. He knows how far he can take it, knows Mark's limits, knows when to stop. They push the line, inch by tantalising inch, but neither of them have ever fully stepped over it, and Gary isn't going to start now.

He looks at Mark, drinking him in. His clothes are different: more ordinary, more pedestrian, more _boring,_ at least in comparison. A simple grey t-shirt roughly tucked into the dark blue jeans he'd changed into at the insistence of the production team, who were all worried he'd spill even a drop of liquid on That Bloody Coat. They'd thrust his original clothes back to him, and begged him to get changed as soon as the shoot was done.

Boring? Maybe a bit. Sensible? Totally. Completely fuckable? Always.

"You're so gorgeous, Markie." Gary pulls his hand out of Mark's pants, and sets his arms free. Mark pouts and tries to hold them aloft for longer, but gives up promptly with a big sigh of relief. "I've wanted to fuck you all day, you know that?"

He grabs hold of Mark's waist and spins him around, pulling his jeans down to his knees in the process. Instinctively, Mark lifts his arms again and braces himself against the wall.

"Good boy," Gary purrs. He slides his hand around to Mark's mouth, and taps his bottom lip. Mark opens up at once. " _Very_ good boy. You know what this is for, don't you? Why you have to suck my fingers first?"

 _Because we forgot to pack the lube_ , Gary expects to hear Mark say, but he doesn't (even though it's true). He doesn't say a word, just continues to swirl his tongue around Gary's two fingers, getting him as slick as he can.

"That'll do," Gary tells him after a minute, partly because he's wet enough, and partly because he's not sure how much of Mark's tongue he can stand. "Let's get you ready, first."

Gary watches Mark closely as he prepares him. From what he can see, Mark's eyes are closed tight, his lips are still parted, and his fingers are curled as if he's trying to hold onto the wall. Gary knows that, sooner rather than later, he'll have to support most, if not all, of Mark's weight, but for now he wants to keep him exactly where he is and watch him fall apart.

He needs to be cautious, of course. There's the danger of going too far, of pushing Mark to his end before either of them are ready.

"I think that'll be enough," he says, sliding his fingers out and ignoring the sounds of Mark's protest. "My turn."

Gary half considers getting Mark to turn around and suck him off for a bit, but he looks so perfect there, ready and waiting, that Gary decides to do it himself, just this once. There's always next time.

"I know I'm greedy," Gary says as he nudges Mark's legs apart with his knee. "But I can't get enough of you, love." He pushes Mark's back to get him to bend over a little, and Mark's fists ball slightly as if he's trying even harder to get a grip on the wall, aware he'll need it. Gary never tires of seeing him like that. "And I know I'm possessive, and you can flirt with anybody you want and it doesn't actually _mean_ anything, and it's still me you want to go home with at the end of the day." Gary makes sure he's prepared them both properly, not wanting to hurt Mark in any way. "But I need you to remember that, no matter what-"

He gets himself into position: his mouth as close to Mark's ear as he physically can, his cock brushing lightly against Mark's entrance.

"-you belong to _me_."

He punctuates his sentence by pushing himself inside Mark, hard and fast and without any warning whatsoever, making Mark howl in surprise.

"Oh _shit_!" Mark throws his head back so it's resting on Gary's shoulder, and Gary plants several kisses in his hair. "Fuck me, Gary..."

"I'm planning on it, lad."

It takes a moment to find a rhythm, one that isn't awkward and works for them both, and then suddenly they find it and... _oh fuck_. 

Mark goes up onto his tiptoes, or bends his knees, or moves in some way that makes the angle exactly what they both need. Gary doesn't know how he does it but he never lets him down - it's merely Mark being his usual considerate, thoughtful self. Yes, he's getting something out of it too, but Gary can almost hear the thoughts running through his head: _make it good for Gary, the cramp in your thigh doesn't matter as long as Gary's enjoying himself, if you lean back a bit it'll drive Gary wild..._

All he can ever do is try to return the favour, hoping that one day it might be enough.

"Please," Mark says, his voice little more than a low whine. "Please, Gaz..."

The sound of Mark begging is nearly too much to handle, but Gary can't bring himself to shut him up. Sometimes he has to, with a not so gentle hand clamped over his mouth, rendering him speechless. Sometimes it _is_ gentle, muffling rather than silencing. And sometimes he lets Mark make plenty of noise, not caring if he comes in ten seconds flat.

This isn't one of those times. He still wants Mark's voice to be the soundtrack, which means concentrating on keeping his cool, blocking him out if necessary. That'll be easier said than done.

Gary thrusts a few times, slowly at first whilst Mark adjusts. He can pinpoint the instant he can throw caution to the wind, when he can take Mark as roughly as he wants, because Mark gives a little shiver. Not anything too noticeable, but enough to give Gary the go ahead. He's seen it plenty of times in their years together, and it never fails to send both his brain and his body into overdrive.

And there it is. Mark presses his forehead into the wall, panting hard as he gives silent permission for Gary to do whatever he wants. But that isn't enough for Gary, he needs one last thing to make it perfect.

"Touch yourself," he murmurs, taking Mark's wrist in his hand and guides it down to his crotch. "But don't come, not yet. Wait for me, love."

Mark is close, Gary can tell. And he's not the only one. It's been seven long hours of thinking about this, and Gary is impressed with his own self-control. He wonders if it's being older, because fifteen years previously he would've lost it in that alleyway and needed to have a very awkward chat with the costume department.

Back in the present, Mark's hand is closing around his cock oh-so-gently, and Gary has to stop moving his hips so he can watch. He'll never get tired of watching Mark touch himself - it's probably the most erotic, most amazing, most wonderful sight in the world.

The only thing Gary likes to watch more is Mark's face when he's doing it.

"I won't... won't last long, Gaz."

Gary kisses his neck. "I know. You won't have to."

He uses his left hand to cover Mark's, and holds onto Mark's hip with the right. Keeping him close, keeping him from changing his mind and running away... which is a ridiculous thought that's plagued Gary for the last two decades and, quite frankly, needs to piss off. Mark has never shown any sign of wanting to get away from Gary, and it's only ever Gary's stupid insecurities that tell him otherwise.

From the way he's arching his back and moaning, and from how fast he's fisting his own cock, it's plainly obvious that Mark is perfectly happy to stay exactly where he is.

"I really have wanted to do this all day," Gary says. He keeps his pace slow and steady, not wanting to come before he's ready. "I've wanted to fuck you like this since I first saw you in that stupid, gorgeous outfit..."

Mark doesn't respond with words, but he doesn't need to. The way is body tenses up is a clear sign Gary is doing it right, and all he has to do is keep going and they'll both be rewarded. He angles his face so he can see Mark's, not wanting to miss the moment when it finally arrives.

"If we'd not been at work, would you have let me do this to you in that alley?" he asks.

Mark groans. "Yes," he says. "Of course I would!"

"Really? You would've let me push you into the wall and fuck you nice and hard?"

He gives an extra hard thrust, making Mark yelp and claw at the wall with his free hand. A small tremor runs down Gary's spine, and his hand tightens its grip of Mark's hip automatically.

"I bet you wouldn't have minded if we'd been caught, would you? Not if you were in a state like this. You would've carried on pulling yourself off, carried on bouncing on my cock, not stopping until you got exactly what you wanted..."

"Fuck!" Mark says, his voice cracking. " _Fuck_..."

Mark comes, then, and Gary doesn't think he's ever seen anything so beautiful in all his life. He thinks that every time, and every time it's the truth. He doesn't care that Mark didn't wait for him - he doesn't care about anything at all.

Gary gives him a few seconds to recover, even though he doesn't really need it, before going back to thrusting. It won't be long until his body takes over entirely and he can't hold back any longer, and he's determined to enjoy every last moment until it happens.

He tries to focus his attention on literally anything else - a tiny stain on the wallpaper, traffic noise from outside, one of the freckles on the nape of Mark's neck - but it doesn't do much to help. Feeling how tight Mark is around him, listening to the heaviness of his breathing, the sudden shockwave that courses through Gary as Mark rolls his hips...

Without warning, Mark sinks his body down so he's no longer on his tiptoes, impaling himself even further on Gary's cock, and Gary isn't sure if it's the movement or the little _oh_ sound Mark makes as he does it that sends him hurtling towards his end.

"Oh God, Markie..."

Gary pulls Mark back into him, needing to have him close as he lets go, wanting to feel skin touching skin. Mark's whole body is still trembling and that only makes him come harder, knowing he can still reduce Mark to a quivering wreck, even after all this time. Gary's heart is either beating too fast for him to keep track of or it's stopped altogether - he can't tell which and, either way, he's not complaining.

He all but growls Mark's name as he comes, reducing it to a soft whisper as he finally goes over the edge. Mark is muttering in response, but Gary can't make it out and it doesn't matter, anyway. He can hear everything he needs to know in the tone of Mark's voice, and the feel of his heartbeat.

Mark slumps, pressing his face even further into the wall, utterly breathless. Gary falls forwards too, resting the side of his face on the back of Mark's head, damp hair tickling his cheek. He can't stay there for long, but Gary needs to compose himself, get his strength back, get his thoughts in order. He closes his eyes and holds Mark tightly, nowhere near willing to break them apart yet.

"Jesus..." he puffs, when his lungs are working again. "That gets better and better."

He can imagine the sleepy, satisfied smile spreading across Mark's face. He doesn't need to see it, he can picture it perfectly.

"Was it worth the wait?" Mark asks.

Gary smiles too. "'course it was, love. It's always worth the wait. You okay?"

"Oh God, yeah. That was amazing."

He's heard it a million times, but it still makes Gary proud when Mark says those words. Still, that wasn't the actual question.

"Good. And you're _okay_?"

A slight hesitation, and then: "Yeah, I'm okay."

He sounds as if he's being sincere, although there's a tinge of something else in there, too. Gary worries he's hurt in some way, and peels himself off of Mark's back in order to check for injuries. A huge pang of guilt hits when he notices how hard Mark's been working to maintain their position, even more than Gary has. He's in excellent shape at the moment and he's put up with it valiantly, but it must be uncomfortable all the same.

At once overcome with the urge to get Mark relaxed, to ease his tired joints and soothe any aching muscles, Gary starts doing everything he can to get him back into a normal stance. After pulling out as carefully as possible, Gary turns Mark around and presses his lips to his sweaty forehead, trying to convey all of his love in one kiss. It'll never be enough, and he strives to do better every time.

"That better?"

Mark smiles, meekly. Whether that's from the position or the sex in general, Gary can't tell. He looks relieved all the same. "Much better. Thanks, Gaz."

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Feeling extra gallant, Gary slips an arm around Mark's waist, and helps him over to the bed. It's the least he can do, considering all Mark has done for him this evening. Mark lolls on him once more, shuffling his feet and grinning. Once he's got Mark laying down, Gary cleans them both up and sets about closing the curtains and making sure the door is properly locked. The idea of someone bursting in on them fucking is mildly thrilling, but it would be horribly intrusive during the afterglow.

When Gary is done with his post-coitus chores, he turns back to the bed and expects to find Mark already unconscious and snoring, totally spent.

On the contrary, Mark is still awake, thumping his hand around the pillow to make sure it's precisely how he likes it. He's very specific about his pillows, especially after he's had an exhausting day and an even more exhausting night. Eventually it bends to his will and he collapses down onto it.

"I tell you something, though," he says, out of nowhere and as if he's simply carrying on the conversation (which they haven't been having for a good ten minutes, now). His voice is far-away and tired, his eyes are struggling to stay open.

"What's that, love?"

Gary climbs in next to him, silently thanking the hotel for providing them with such a comfortable bed. He pulls the sheet up and over their shoulders, doing his best to tuck them both in properly, not wanting Mark to get a chill.

"I'm _so_ glad I don't have to ride that bike again, tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, as ever, so any mistakes are my own. If anybody fancies doing a bit of betaing, I've got plenty more where this came from and could use a bit of motivation/arse kicking to actually get it done. I'm Totoffle basically everywhere (Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, and totoffle[@]yahoo.co.uk), except for LJ where I'm mysticheaven.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ❤


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